


Once Upon a Time

by clehjett



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dark Will, Dark Will Graham, F/F, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Omega Verse, Omega Will Graham, Past Relationship(s), Psychological Warfare, Sassy Will Graham, Serial Killers, Strong Will Graham, The poetic overtures of romantic serial killers, Thriller, past history
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21778261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clehjett/pseuds/clehjett
Summary: Will and Hannibal have a sordid past they never speak of. Will hides himself in the FBI trying to live as a good man, until Hannibal finds him. What can he do to shake off this obsessive man who sees the best in him? And just how much of his righteousness is truly moral and good?
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 100





	Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> I love Will strong and confident. So I thought, if he was a tad more stable and more prepared, he would be a good deal more challenging for Hannibal to court than he would like
> 
> FYI i cant decide if i should ABO this, but just for now, lets ABO this and assume Hannibal wants more than just sex. I mean he already does but, he wants to knock him up too.

In all the twists and turns of life and death that Will has seen, and all the twisted shifted he has had to deal with the inside and outside of himself, he could never have foreseen this. Whatever this meeting was that Jack Crawford had called him for, he did not expect the one man he had wanted nothing to do with for the rest of his life being there. Hannibal Lecter, the man who had seen his darkness, accepted it, encouraged it and wanted to nurture it. The man whom Will ran from was standing in Jack Crawford’s office, in the fucking FBI, looking over Jack’s pin board of missing girls, and smiling to himself. It was a twitch of the lip, but Will could see him well enough to know he was smiling. This man, this monster, was truly something to be feared, to be standing right in the office of the head of the Behavioural Science Unit,  _ helping _ him in his case. The man had the biggest balls Will had ever seen. Hannibal turned to the sound of Will entering and dropping his coat on the chair in front of him, watching him freeze like a deer caught in headlights and grow tight with tension. He would not call it fear, but the scent wafting from Will was tantalising. His smile grew, for his back was to Jack, and let his person suit slip down for Will.

He had found him.

“No.” Will spit, after taking a moment, it was only about 5 seconds really, for the moment to sink in, to let Jack look up to notice his presence, and for Will to collect himself. But it felt like an eternity frozen in amber for Will. Jack's mouth opened wearily, like this is the hundredth time he has had to deal with a recalcitrant and grouchy Will – which it is. “No.” Will barks, interrupting Jack’s speech about the matter. Whatever this was, Hannibal being here, he would not be a part of it. Case be damned.

“Will...” 

“I said no.” 

Jack goes on to spiel something about bringing Doctor Lecter on as a consultant, as if this is something procedural and nothing like Hannibal manipulating his way into the heart of the FBI for some reason or other. Something about an outside eye, lying to Will’s face about how this clearly is not a psychiatrist brought on to babysit a mentally dysfunctional empath. Like this is Will’s choice, like this is best for everyone. It would most definitely benefit Jack, to have some kind of psychological medic on hand to somehow fix and patch a broken-up Will, so long as it does not interfere with the work. And keep him on a tight leash while barely serving his ethical responsibility of protecting his most precious tool. But that fucking prick had the nerve to sit there and babble on about the greater good. Will’s anger peaks and he fights the red haze to glare at both him and that insufferable man smiling at him. Will’s scowl deepens and he picks up his coat again. Jack clocks the movement and begins to stand.

“Jack.” Will spits. He observes the alpha glare in Jack’s eyes, how condescending and narrow it is. And makes an impulse decision to make this as awkward and petty as possible.

“You picked the wrong shrink, Jack. Doctor Lecter and I have had a one-night stand so this ‘arrangement’ you have with each other has backfired.”

Jack whom clearly was not expecting that statement to come out of Will Graham’s mouth, both the sexual and the implication of Jack’s underhanded deal, blanched. “What?”

“We fucked, Jack.” Will tucks his coat closer to his stomach, bitterly thinking to himself,  _ thanks for the fuck. _ He growls at Hannibal one last time, snarling into the face of veiled glee and walks out, letting the glass door swing closed behind him, disappointed it was not capable of slamming shut. Although he did not expect Hannibal Lecter to be capable of blushing, especially not for something he claims he has no regrets for, he hopes that he at least could deal some chagrin on both of those two insufferable men who think they can shove him around and into corners. 

While Hannibal was not one to be wrong about an action taken, being that he assigns great thought into everything, he finds that Will Graham is something that he most loves to have done. There is a moment of stunned silence as both he and Jack Crawford sit and process what would have been a fairly straightforward awkward silence before Will had dropped the bombshell of a revelation, it has now morphed into a sickly silence that amuses Hannibal as much as it annoys him. A setback surely but one that Jack Crawford, as usual if Hannibal might add, brought on himself. 

“Well... Ahem.” Jack clears his throat. Realising he had placed himself in a bind, the normally direct and forceful man was forced to change tact. Subtlety, though he was capable of a degree of manipulation, was not his strong suit. And it was doubly hard when dealing with a man like Will Graham, that read intentions and feelings like butter on bread. Hannibal observes him behind his desk, frowning at the glass door of his office where he left. A glance at Hannibal, and seeing him want to blame  _ him _ for the unpleasantness of the situation despite trying to pull a fast one on Will himself. Hannibal reminds himself again that it was not Jack’s time. He had some uses left. In particular with regards to Will. He allows Jack to send some daggers his way, but also manages to chide him with a pointed tilt of his head. Point taken, Jack sighs and bows his head in instinctual sublimation. Hannibal allows the man to gather himself back together and try to salvage an alternative before he speaks. 

“If I may, Agent Crawford, it seems to me that you are operating outside your jurisdiction, so to speak.” Hannibal begins worming. Jack raises an eyebrow, and his tense shoulders show a degree of anxiety to being caught out, and nervous at what is coming. Hannibal smiles, and stands, abandoning the cup of sludge that was offered to him. 

Tucking his jacket closed and straightening, he addresses the federal agent. “Be that as it may, it seems that you are also out of options, given that you had consulted me on the recommendation of Doctor Bloom. Given the unofficial capacity of this meeting and the engagement of my time, it seems to me that you could still benefit from my help with regards to Mr. Graham.”

“How?” Jack frowns, shoulders rolling as the tension leaves him. “Even if we do this ‘under the table’.” Jack gestures and his voice lowering as if attempting subterfuge, “Will would never accept any psychiatrist studying him, even if it's to help him. And it seems he definitely does not want  _ you _ .” Jack waves a hand at his person.

The statement stings, though it is meant to refer to Hannibal as a psychiatrist, and not as a partner and mate to Will. Hannibal finds his heart seethes and is surprised at how quickly he has  internalised Will’s rejection, filing that away for later, he nods as if in agreement to Jack.

“Nevertheless, I would recommend that you make use of this prior connection between the two of us. As before, I would assume with the unofficial capacity I was to be engaged in, you would benefit from the not so confidential nature of our conversations.” Hannibal begins. Like a skilled conductor, he preens at the attention focused on him and Jack’s actions to be directed by him. “I would make use of the indirect relationship we share and I can still provide emotional and psychological support to young Will. I believe I can help him see this cannibal you have him getting to know.”

Jack’s face is a mask of frowning consideration. He is silent for a beat but Hannibal can already see the seed is sown and has taken root. Jack is nothing if not doggedly determined to make use of any and all means at his disposal – the most convenient and powerful of tools being Will Graham – and is unafraid to step outside the bounds of ethics in his pursuit of evil. Hannibal finds it amusing that Jack Crawford for all his righteousness is just one step shy of villainy himself. 

Hannibal returns home, smug and thrumming with anticipation. His mind, usually so ordered and patient, is already racing ahead to an image of Will trapped beneath him once again, hot and wet. His body twitches with the memory of the memorable unmentionable night shared and is already planning ahead to the image of Will secure in his home. His, forever. But alas such outcomes are mere dreams without careful and meticulous planning, and not so little legwork involved. Hannibal is swimming in excitement to put his plans in order. The first, is nudging Will in the right direction, so to worm his way and his particular brand of madness onto Will, to see that they are not so different, that the world is not so black and white, and that pups with Hannibal may be a desirable outcome. 

* * *

Will barrels into Hannibal with all his weight and anger, slamming the meaty mass of his body into the wall. He’s surprised, despite being intimate with it once, that Hannibal is built lean but thick with power, and for a second he hesitates. But when he looks into the eyes of the predator he has cornered, he steels himself, because as he does, he sees all the array of emotion Will has ever seen on Hannibal – surprise, caution and then arousal. It's that last one that really drives Will up the wall, pushing Hannibal up it. He seethes with boiling anger at seeing the smug look on Hannibal’s face looking down at him, as if this  minuscule act of violence is cute, like a petulant child trying to threaten an adult. Will’s eyes empty into dark blankness and he growls low in his throat to which Hannibal makes an attempt to reign in his arousal and amusement. 

“You did this. You did this!” Will rages.

“Did what, Will?” Hannibal speaks with faux innocence, trying to hide the curl of his lip.

“Don’t play coy with me!” Will screams. “I know you warned Hobbs we were coming. A woman is dead because of you. A teenage girl could have died because of you!” Will spits, grinding his knee into  Hannibal’s thigh as painfully as possible and his anger seems to spark with greater annoyance at detecting Hannibal’s growing interest just west of it.

“You saved her life .  You caught a dangerous killer.  You did your job . You did what you’ve always wanted.” Hannibal placates him. He wants sorely to put his arms around Will, whose chest is pressing into his. He can feel his heart thumping rapidly, fast and fiery. He wants to stroke his fingers up Will’s sides until he reaches his nape and to pull him closer. He wants to feel Will against him. He wants him to rip into his body, to let his rage consume him. Although, he knows that this would not be the ideal venue, he wants so badly for all the outcomes he desires to play out right now. Will is so close. He’s so close to his becoming, and so close he can smell his breath, his eyes are wide and clear. He’s so beautiful. 

“You think this is a joke?”

“On the contrary, I believe you to be quite serious.”

Will scoffed, reading Hannibal like a book. A book he had wished he had never picked up in the first place, yet was too interesting to let go –  agonising and infuriating to behold. “You think just because you’re so high and mighty, all untouchable that I’m afraid of you? You think just because the Chesapeake Ripper has never been caught that he’s untouchable?”

Hannibal’s eyes betrayed a twitch, surprised yet impressed by Will, who answered with a smirk. “Oh yes, I know who you are. I worked it out, went down the list. There’s only one as narcissistic and self-centred as you.” Hannibal’s smile shifted into one of great fondness and admiration. His boy had progressed farther than he had thought. The danger unnerved and excited him at the same time.

Will could see Hannibal enjoying himself – he had wanted Will to go in and for there to be bloodshed, to sooth his boredom, to chum the waters. He wanted Will to go in and kill, knowing it would spur him into action. He wanted to see what Will could do. All he was to him was some toy to wind up and watch go. It set a fire into Will; he was so enraged he could barely see. He bore his fangs and he growled at this pompous asshole that he hated so much he could kill… but he couldn’t. If he did, Hannibal would win, and all of it will be for naught. Will slams Hannibal back against the concrete again, delighting in the wince Hannibal lets out when his head bashes into the wall. He grips his lapels in his fists, wanting to claw, wanting to dig into skin but settling for wrinkling the hell out of his ridiculously ostentatious and expensive suit. His voice dips lower and he resolves to make his designs clear. 

“Don’t you ever play games with me. Ever again. You stay the fuck away from me.” Will sees Hannibal gazing down at him with eyes half-lidded, as if this is an intimate moment – which it is, for them. “If you ever try and manipulate me or anyone around me to mess with me again…  _ I’ll show you what it is to for me to kill _ …” Will lip quivers with barely contained rage, knowing that if he were pushed, it would come to shove. 

Hannibal simply nods slightly, an understanding reached. “I suppose you’d be doing it personally this time…” he glances down at Will’s fists balled in his clothes. He thought of Will’s hands, clutched around the mettle of the gun so tightly, pulling the trigger again and again to bring down Hobbs who like a beast, could not be put down so lightly. Guns were impersonal and distasteful, and often quite easily disarmed, and Hannibal hoped to lead Will down a more elegant path. 

As if catching onto Hannibal’s thoughts, his mouth finally widens into a smile. “You’d be terribly insulted if I shot you, wouldn’t you? In the back, too?” Will added. Hannibal’s ego took a plunge at the thought and swelled at being known so well by Will. Will let Hannibal drop back to the ground where he stood more comfortably. Their eyes were a thrumming stream of tension and excitement. Both men were taut like strings pulled tight at both ends, tugging at each other, unable to lose or let go. Will was a  live-wire of fury and he met the monster’s eyes head on. For despite Will’s hatred at being played, despite Hannibal’s lustre for being whimsical in his amusement, both could not deny the pull they had towards each other. Hannibal’s keen interest in an equal, and Will’s joy at being accepted. 

Will turned and left Hannibal staring at his back, before turning at the door and smirking at him, “Don’t worry, it’ll be in the head.”

**Author's Note:**

> KUDO AND SUBSCRIBE :D
> 
> Comment to tell me I’m doing good
> 
> P. S. I do not consent to my work being reposted or used in any capacity elsewhere without my permission  
> Please do not repost or use my works in any ‘unofficial apps’


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